A Man of Heaven and Earth
by Little Mae
Summary: Kaybased,although you don't need to have read the book to understand it.Christine goes back to say goodbye,as she promised.EC,although there might be a twist later on.Rather angsty.Please Review!
1. Decisions

**A Man of Heaven and Earth**

_A/N-_ Alright, I've had this idea in my head for a while. After I had read the Susan Kay version of Phantom, this idea had been pestering me. I don't want to ruin the ending for anyone, but Christine promises to go back and give Erik the invitation to her wedding with Raoul after he had let them go. I'm going to twist the ending just a bit. Don't kill me, anyone. I've got to go to college first. Oh, and I'm making Erik a little younger than he was in the book. Anyway, on to the story!

…Okay, so I lied. First, here's a little excerpt from the book. It's in Raoul's perspective.

Ch 1: Decisions

"_It's time for us to go back," she said. I looked at the invitation, neatly written in her beautiful copperplate hand, and something inside me snapped. _

_"If you think for one moment that I will take you back there, you must be out of your mind!"_

"_But you promised." She gasped. "You promised him!"_

"…_The man is insane, Christine, utterly deranged…you must be quite mad yourself to think I ever intended to keep that promise!"_

_She swayed back from me and sank into the chair beside the fire. "If you won't take me," she said unsteadily, "I shall go by myself."_

* * *

How dare him! How dare he try to dictate what she was and was not allowed to do? He had _promised _Erik that they would come back…She _was_ going to go back, no matter what Raoul said! She would not deliver the final blow to a dying man's heart, a heart she had broken more than once in her naïve foolishness.

Christine would have left her angel without even giving him the answer he longed for, going so far as denying him a common courtesy! He had _let them go_, an act that had truly shaken her after his consuming rage and grief, after she had feared for her own life and his questionable sanity. Once again, her emotions ran wild, overtaking normal thought and actions.

She paced around the room in her small flat, the dark circles under her eyes prominent as she swayed slightly, putting a hand on the mantel to steady herself. What should she pack?

…Should she tell Raoul when she was going? Christine shivered as she remembered the terrifying mood changes, and the power Erik had once held. How he had scared her, at times! Those times, when she yearned for the safe, warm love of Raoul, who didn't confuse her and make her doubt her own ability to reason.

The legendary Phantom of the Opera was nothing, now…Nothing but a broken, dying man, who had never truly been loved by anyone, alone with the horrifying past he had confided in her.

He had killed many times in his lifetime, yet the same man had been as timid as a small child as he reverently kissed her forehead, rejection in his mismatched eyes.

Suddenly she was crying, tears coursing down her pale cheeks, as she collapsed into a chair. What had she done?

For all of her twenty years, in many ways Christine was still a child...unaware of the consequences of her actions. Her conscience would be forever burdened if she didn't go back to say a last good-bye to the Opera Ghost.

The girl stood up, fixed her dress, stared resolutely ahead. It was settled. She was going back to the house on the lake alone, that home of illusions where nothing was what it seemed.

Christine nodded her head firmly. She would leave tomorrow, when her one maid assumed she was in her room, and keep her promise to Erik.

"Oh, God, help me…"

It wouldn't be for very long. She was sure that he assumed they wouldn't be coming, and it sent pangs through her heart.

"_I promise I shan't keep you long…but I believe, on such a day, it would be quite permissible to kiss the bride…would it not?"_

Erik's soft words echoed inside her head and strengthened her resolve. If Raoul couldn't take her back after this, then...well, she would find a way to keep going, somehow.

Somehow.

* * *

Good? Not good? Never write anything ever again otherwise various people will beat me with large objects? Sorry it's short, it's really just the prologue. Review, please! 


	2. Don't Go

A/N- Reviews! I love you all. I send you all cyber cupcakes. Or cyber muffins, whichever you prefer. I hope my little story turns out to be slightly good, since this is my first try. Tell me your opinions! And just as a side note, I've mixed in a bit of ALW…Michael Crawford, mostly. Love his voice.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything! Nothing! Sheesh.

Ch 2: Don't Go

Christine tossed and turned in bed, her thoughts churning. Despite her physical exhaustion, her mind was working overtime, whispering doubts into conscience. It was still night, almost early morning.

…_What if he had died already? _

No! She wouldn't think like that. Erik was alive! And Christine was going to keep her promise. She was going back tomorrow.

_You're scared. What if Raoul won't take you back? What will you do?_

She wasn't scared. There wasn't anything to be afraid of…She surely wasn't afraid of Erik, not anymore. And Raoul…Stop! Christine wasn't fit for this; she hadn't deserved either man's love. Why her?

_Why you?_

The why's echoed in her head, giving her a dreadful headache. Unable to lie down any longer, she abruptly sat up on the side of her bed, and started dressing into a plain gown, and black traveling cloak. Christine was leaving. _Now. _In her anguished state, she forgot all her carefully made plans, and threw a few essentials into a small case.

The girl quietly opened the door of her room, and walked silently over to the front door. The maid wouldn't know she was gone until morning. And by that time, she would be…well, somewhere. She could make her own decisions now. Christine was no longer the lost child, yearning for help. As she calmly hailed a carriage, she retreated inside herself, to find something to cling to.

The fairy tales were flawed. The stories that Christine had delighted in, the wonderful little stories that her father had told her, they were wrong. In all of them, the fair maiden awaited her knight in shining armor to come save her from her terrible captor. None of them had predicted that the maiden would leave her fair knight to comfort the monster. In none of them did her captor have the voice of an angel, and such a large capacity to love.

If anyone had told Christine, back then, that she would be responsible for one life, perhaps two, she would have laughed. If only she knew what really happened in those fairy tales…Nobody wins, in the end. That was the only truth.

The brougham stopped with a small jerk in front of the beautiful Opera Garnier, and Christine was jolted out of her thoughts. "Thank you, sir." She paid the small fee, and the driver helped her out.

"Shall I wait for you, mademoiselle?" He looked worried, most likely since the early morning wasn't the best time to walk around Paris.

"No, I will be fine." With that, she turned around and bravely began to walk towards the gate that led to the underground passages, fingering the small key that she still had in her possession. The invitation was in her small bag- almost forgotten, since there might not even be a wedding.

Christine walked slowly down the black passageways, a bit fearfully, finally reaching the silent lake. She squinted, trying to see through the thick mist that surrounded the lake. Shivering, she pulled her cloak closer, and then walked closer to the bank.

"Mademoiselle Daaé?"

A dark shape loomed up, and Christine shrank back, wary. "Yes, monsieur?"

"Do not fear, Miss Daaé. I am Nadir. Erik sent me." The Persian took a step closer, holding his hand out to Christine.

She took it. "Is he…" She wasn't able to say the word. _Dead._ Such a final word, really.

"Erik is still alive. Although, you do know his health is failing. His heart, it seems. He didn't think you would come. He said he thought your young man was sensible, and wouldn't permit you to return."

Hearing the slightly accented words coming from Nadir was different than repeating them over and over again in her head…_He didn't think you would come…His health is failing…_

"Raoul didn't want me to come. I…I couldn't break my promise to Erik." Christine's voice quivered slightly.

"I see." The Persian's glance was impenetrable. "Come, here is the boat."

They stepped in, and Nadir took up the oars. They sailed across the lake in utter silence, both in deep thought. Finally, they reached the opposite shore. The daroga helped her out, and Christine tentatively walked into the silent house.

"He is over here, Miss Daaé."

She followed Nadir into Erik's room; the same room in which Christine had torn away her Angel's disguise, where she had finally learned the truth. The same room in which she had brought her dismal attempts at making tea from the samovar to him…The hanging black tapestries, the magnificent organ…and the coffin.

She peered over the edge as Nadir hung back, and gasped.

"Monsieur! Why is Erik in here? He should be on a bed. We must move him at once!" My god, but even she knew not to put a sick man in a propped up coffin!

"He insisted, Christine. He would not allow me to move him onto a bed." He looked shame-faced. "I couldn't deny him his own will."

A small noise came from the coffin. Immediately Christine turned her attention back to her fallen angel. "Erik?"

"I'm sorry, Mama…I don't need two kisses…not even one, I promise! Don't leave me in the dark…" The previously motionless man began to toss and turn in the confined space, reaching out to something neither Nadir nor Christine could see.

"I'm here, Erik…hush now. I'm here…" Christine anxiously smoothed his hair back, stopping as her fingers touched the cold porcelain of his mask. She began to pry it off, but a hand stopped her.

"Mademoiselle. Erik knew that it wouldn't be too long before… I wouldn't touch the mask. He wished for me not to take it off."

"Nadir! This man is sick, and I am quite aware that he has no great wish for self-preservation! I don't care whether Erik is the greatest magician in the world, he needs help. And that is exactly what I intend to do. Now, help me move him into my…well, the room I stayed in."

The Persian looked at Christine with admiration; he would never guess she was trembling inside. She resolutely took off the mask, with just a small intake of breath as she gazed upon his horrendous features once more. His malformed lips were moving quickly as he muttered under his breath in delirium. Christine's small fingers moved across the flaky skin of his cheek, pressing them softly against his forehead.

A deathly grip seized her hand, the long fingers curling over her wrist, cold even with his high fever. Erik cried out, as though something was hurting him. His chest moved up and down irregularly, and he tightened his grip on her wrist as Nadir lifted his light weight out of the coffin. Although the Opera Ghost was a much taller man, Nadir lifted him with ease.

"He is too thin…He weighs almost nothing." The daroga looked extremely concerned, and kept glancing over at Christine to gauge her reaction. She was staring determinedly at Erik's face, her breath coming a little quicker as the Phantom's hold on her fingers grew tighter.

They reached the soft bed in Christine's room, and Nadir gently laid him down. At her orders, he went to go fetch a cool cloth.

"_It's not my birthday…and I haven't been good..." _

Christine felt a tremor run through her heart at his childish tone. There was a child buried underneath the dark secrets, his own self-loathing…a lost child.

"I have you, Erik. I won't let go. I promise." She bent down and gently kissed him on the cheek, and a soft sigh came from him. His chest slowed down slightly, and she brushed the sweat-soaked hair out of his closed eyes. Christine began to hum softly, ignoring the pain in her wrist. His grip loosened as he relaxed, and the pain ebbed.

"I have the cloth." Nadir appeared in the doorway, holding a wet cloth. Christine took it and began to tenderly wipe the distorted skin of Erik's face, being careful not to rub too hard.

There was an abrupt change in his breathing as the Phantom came back to himself, and his free hand flew up to his uncovered face. His deep-set eyes flew open, and found Christine staring back at him.

"Ever the little nurse, aren't you, my dear?" A dry chuckle rasped out of his throat, with none of the melodious tone she was used to. It was quickly followed by a hacking cough, and Christine looked helplessly on as he pushed her supporting hands away with surprising strength.

"Where is my mask, Daroga?" Erik struggled to sit up, and then continued with ice in his voice, "I believe I told you to leave me where I was. Am I not allowed to die in peace?"

Christine started at his tone, staring wordlessly down at the stubborn man. "You can't die. I won't let you die!" Her voice grew louder, tinged with hysteria. "I won't! I won't leave, I told you!" Her voice shrank to a whisper. "I promised."

She bent over him, weeping, as her strong front melted away. Erik reached an arm out, and traced the outline of her jaw with a long finger. "I won't see you throw your life away, Christine. Not for me. You will forget. I am a dying man, and there is nothing here for you."

"I can't. I can't forget. How in the world can I forget you? What will I do?" Christine threw her arms around him, and rested her head on his chest as he gently stroked her curls. He closed his eyes in pain as her tears soaked into his white shirt. It was an effort for him to sit up- it felt as if a large block was sitting on his upper body, crushing his heart.

"You love your young man, don't you? He will make you happy, as I can't." Erik said this with an effort; he would love nothing more if she would stay with him. But he couldn't tie her down, he was useless. Damn his contradictory health!

"Yes…" muttered Christine as she sat up, dashing her tears away with her hand, "But I _need_ you! There won't be anything else to remind me…Say it, Erik! Say I must stay. I know it; you don't want me to leave, do you?"

He sighed deeply. "Christine, my dear child…"

"Say it, Erik! Don't you love me?"

That was a bit of an understatement. He began to laugh hoarsely, as Christine stared up at him in amazement. "How can you laugh? Answer my question!"

She was making this too hard for him…in a second he wouldn't have any self-control left, and then the stubborn girl wouldn't be _allowed_ to leave until he was gone.

"That is enough, Christine. Don't presume to know my thoughts. I daresay you would be quite frightened. Nadir, please come here."

Christine was silenced by his commanding voice, staring as if in a dream as Nadir stepped back into the room. "Fetch me my medicine, will you? It is in the second drawer, on the desk. Thank you, my dear daroga. It seems your crude Persian poisons have finally caught up with me."

Nadir shook his head in disbelief. That morbid sense of humor was still there, even through the intense pain the daroga knew Erik must be going through. He went over to the mahogany desk, and drew out the small packet of morphine. Christine jumped up from the bed, ignoring Erik's hiss of anger.

"Oh, no. I will not allow you to give that…that poison…to him." Nadir stopped in his tracks, astonishment written all over his face. He looked over at the infamous opera ghost, who had almost the same expression on that Nadir did. The only difference was that Erik was starting to get impatient with his little nurse.

"Christine. Stop being stubborn, and let me have that packet." He managed to get to his feet, his still imposing figure towering above her.

Christine wouldn't back down. Her usually sweet nature was replaced with an anger Erik had seen only once. "No. I cannot stand here and let you ruin your already extremely unstable health. Now stop being childish, and get back on that bed."

Nadir looked back and forth between them, before letting out a hearty chuckle at the situation.

Erik glared icily at him. "What, you useless Persian, is so damn funny? I'm sure you think my weakness is absolutely hilarious, do you not?"

Weak as Erik was, Nadir was suddenly reminded of the menacing power he had once held over the Persian court, and the sheer malevolence of a raging demon he had when provoked. The daroga gulped, afraid for both his and Christine's health.

"Erik, calm down…" Nadir wanted to tell the girl to be careful…he wasn't sure that she knew what a risk she was taking. Thank Allah Erik didn't have all of his inhuman strength at the moment- otherwise he wasn't sure what exactly would have happened to them.

Christine seized the packet from Nadir in his indecision, and flung it away, defiantly meeting the murderous gaze of her angel.

"Angel…I just want to help you. Please don't send me away…" At her whispered plea, all the anger left the monster, and he sank back down onto the bed.

"This was my mother's bed, you know," he said distantly, looking blankly ahead. "It seems fitting that this is where I shall die. She would be happy, I'm sure. I was never able to tell her I was sorry…sorry for making her life hell…like my own life."

"Oh, Erik!" Christine flung herself on the bed beside him with a cry, and Nadir hastily retreated from the room. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

"I love you, Christine…forgive me, please." He looked at the despairing angel at his side, and closed his eyes again as he felt her small hand tracing the blue veins visible under his hideous face.

"What will I do without you, Erik?" He tensed as he felt her sit up, and opened his eyes at the exact moment she bent to kiss his forehead, then his malformedlips.

Too weak to do anything else, his hand went up to touch her soft curls, and he let out a suppressed sob as she lay back down beside him. "Don't go…" he murmured sleepily, before falling into a deep sleep.

Outside the room, Nadir wept for the two lost souls who would lose each other once more.

* * *

Yes! Second chapter is finally done. I really love this chapter, I had fun writing it.

- Flashback of Little Lemon weeping while eating crumb cake-

…Anyway. Review please!


	3. Forever Lost

A/N- Yes, the third chapter! School is slowly killing me…On a happier note, yes; I have made Christine have a bit more backbone. She was just annoying me, so out came a Christine with stronger opinions. This chapter has more of our favorite Ghost's view. Hope I keep everyone in character. Onward, Erik!

Kay Erik: Oh, Lord.

Disclaimer: I do. I do own it. You can't do anything to me! -Runs away from the lawyers and the men in the white coats.- AHHH! Okay, I don't!

Ch 3: Forever Lost

Erik slowly awakened to the sight of his Christine, hair mussed and dark circles under her eyes, curled up next to his long torso. He gently traced the contours of her face with his hand, hating the moment when she would wake up and he would have to face reality. The Opera Ghost knew what was happening to him; he would die soon, and Erik would not see Christine with no one in the world.

Raoul was the only choice. Her childhood sweetheart…they would make each other happy, he knew. And yet, he was jealous. He didn't have a chance, the Phantom knew it from the start. He could deny the fact, but the truth was blaringly obvious.

Erik's last attempt at praying hadn't worked so well, and he didn't have it in him to beg for forgiveness. It would be foolish to pray for his own life; he was already doomed to hell. But he would beg for Christine's.

Only for her.

Hearing soft whispering outside the door, Erik jolted up from the bed, careful not to wake the sleeping angel. Quietly, painstakingly, he began to put on fresh clothing, and the black cape, ignoring the pain in his chest. And his mask. Placing the stifling white porcelain over his face, his hand involuntarily twisted the hem of his cloak, remembering the first time he knew he would die- the first time Christine unknowingly ripped off the mask.

"Erik?" A soft inquiry came from the now delicate creature on the bed, rubbing her eyes in such a child-like motion that it made him want to keep her here, with him, where no one would ever crush her dreams. Was he selfish, to want all this beauty for himself, to compensate for the one thing he would never have?

"Where are you going?" She looked worried, and started to get up from the bed.

He made a soft motion with his hand, keeping her there without once touching her. "I'm going to see who the daroga has invited down here for tea this time. You needn't worry, I haven't deteriorated enough to be unable to find out who is in my own house."

She still appeared concerned, especially when he started coughing, the horrid hacking noise coming back. "Erik, I don't want you going out. You were delirious just yesterday. I will go and see who's here."

In an instant, he crossed the room, and held her small wrist with a bony grip. "You will stay here, Christine. I will be back presently." With that terse statement, he swept out the door, inwardly fighting to keep from bending over in agony.

Christine saw through his façade in an instant, and yet was scared to do anything else. He was stronger today, and the Phantom's illness was making him more irritated and moody than usual.

_If it was possible for his mood changes to grow any worse… _She shook her head, half frightened and half amused. Erik was weak, and any lesser man would be dead already. Yet he commanded everyone around him, simply by using his voice. At times she had still thought he wasn't of this world…

Enough. She would go see what was happening in the main room, herself.

Still, she tiptoed to the door, as if Erik could hear her moving. Through the door, she could hear Erik's beautiful voice, laced with icy sarcasm. The daroga she heard as well…but there was a new voice, a voice raised in boyish anger.

She knew that voice. That voice, with all the familiar brash arrogance, belonged to Raoul.

Christine let out an audible gasp, then closed her hand over her mouth in horror. Dear Raoul…he came, despite the fact she had wounded his young heart with her harsh words. He deserved better than her; she could never love him the way he ought to be loved. Raoul was the most eligible young man in Paris, surely he could have anyone.

Christine was imperfect, she knew. The voice of another man, the man that had shaped her voice and her soul, was deeply ingrained in her being. Like it or not, he was quite essential to her. It didn't matter what type of relationship they held, her angel was too much a part of her to let go of. Man or ghost, angel or devil…it just didn't matter anymore.

Hesitantly, she opened the door, wincing as the small creak it made echoed through the lair. With Erik's superhuman hearing, they would turn to her in a second.

Well aware of her rumpled gown and tangled curls, she stopped as the three men turned towards her. The Opera Ghost was leaning against the wall casually, although an aura of menace ruined his act of boredom. Arms crossed underneath the black cloak, he narrowed his eyes behind the mask as she stood there, shivering.

Raoul started up from his chair immediately, giving her a warm embrace. Nadir looked worriedly over at Erik, sensing his agitation. The daroga had grown quite good at sensing Erik's moods during the years he had known him, and came in handy.

Erik surprised him, though.

"Christine. Come here." He spoke with forbidding authority, so she dared not refuse him. She had seen beneath the cold exterior, when he had cried out for just one kiss…

Raoul caught her hand, but she moved towards Erik, sensing Raoul's surprise and worry. She reached the dark shadow hovering by the wall, and he reached out a cold finger and tilted her face upwards, toward him.

"I do believe you have something to give me before you leave, my dear."

Christine's eyes filled with tears, spilling over onto her white cheeks. Gently he wiped them away, his heart breaking. Frantic to do something, Christine ran towards the room to retrieve her bag. There was absolute silence as she left them, and Raoul shifted uncomfortably.

Wary, he moved towards Erik slightly. "Monsieur, if there is anything-"

The Phantom cut him off. "There is nothing you can do. Just take her, and leave quickly."

The girl came back, holding the little invitation in her hand, and there was such an expression of grief on her features that Erik caught his breath. He leaned over her protectively as she stared at him with wide eyes, and silently held out her hand with the card in her neat copperplate writing. Christine could feel him shaking slightly, with the effort of holding himself upright.

The angel's voice was grave, resonating inside her head as it did once. "Thank you, _mon amour._" Christine collapsed, falling into his arms, as he tightened his grip upon her.

Nadir looked away, feeling pity for the masked man. Raoul stared at the two, the terror and understanding that had been drifting at the edge of his mind finally taking hold. She would never love him as much as Erik. There was never a man so unworthy of her love, yet needing it the most at the same time.

She could not love him. But he was loathe to let her go…she was everything he wanted, ever since he had found her again.

Erik's voice cut through his thoughts, raspy and restrained. "Take her, please." He was begging…it had gone too far, and he was losing control quickly. Raoul came forward, and gently led the weeping Christine away from her broken angel, reminded of the last time they left this god-forsaken place.

Christine tugged her fingers away from Raoul's grasp, tears still coursing down her cheeks. She glanced back at the closed door Erik had retreated back into, and then looked hopelessly at her childhood sweetheart.

"Raoul…I can't leave him, I can't!"

The young man drew back, his worst nightmare becoming reality. "Christine…Don't you love me?"

She almost laughed at the irony of it all. Everything was futile…She couldn't do it anymore.

"I do love you, Raoul. I just…Erik will die, soon. I can't let him die alone. Please understand…" She was choking, choking on her tears. Raoul bent forward and placed a light kiss on her lips.

"I will wait for you, then. However long it takes." They embraced, clinging to each other like two lost children. He couldn't make her go…so he would wait. He would wait until Christine was free from this horrible obligation she seemed tied to. They broke away, and the seriousness of their parting dawned.

"Oh, don't say that…Be happy, dear. I am not good enough for you." With that, she stroked his cheek tenderly, and turned towards her room, shoulders shaking. She glanced back to see him walk numbly into the catacombs, and suppressed her desire to run after him, and live happily ever after, like in the tales.

But the world didn't work that way anymore; she had turned her golden prince away.

As Christine turned back, she faced a wide-eyed Nadir. "Mademoiselle… Aren't you going with him? Erik doesn't…"

"I am staying, Nadir. I will stay with him till the end. Nothing will change my mind."

Something must have alerted the Persian to tread carefully. He gently steered her to another room, a foreign room which had been decorated much like the old one.

"He is sleeping right now. We will deal with his reaction when he wakes up, but right now you need to rest." Christine nodded in thanks, opening her wardrobe to find a few extra clothes, and took out a nightgown.

Right before Nadir closed the door, he glanced back in admiration. "You are a very strong woman, Miss Daaé. I am glad to have met you."

As he left, she fell onto the bed with an unladylike thump. She had a strong feeling that she would never see the boy Raoul again.

* * *

Duhduhduh...Review Please! Pretty please with Gerry on top... 


	4. Jump

A/N- So sorry it took so long for me to get this up…SAT preps and all that junk. Fun stuff, really. deep sigh But this story will go on! And people that haven't reviewed yet, I know you're out there…Review, please! It makes me want to keep going with this. This chappy is a bit dark, but oh well. Sort of angsty-fluff. This chapter definitely didn't want to come out…

Disclaimer: Don't. Own. It.

Ch 4: Jump

Christine stayed in a state of mental exhaustion for quite a while before she drifted off to a restless sleep. Images flitted across her subconscious mind, fleeting thoughts that she couldn't grab hold of. She felt as if she was at the edge of a cliff, teetering, and her grasp slipping. The voices urged her on…

_Just jump…Jump…You can do it…_

And she woke up confused and anxious, in a worse state than before. Hadn't she already jumped? Wasn't she staying with the Phantom of the Opera, instead of having an easy life with Raoul?

What more did she have to do?

Shaking her head, Christine swung her legs over the bed, noting that the underground house was completely silent. Not even the soft murmur of voices, perhaps Monsieur Khan and Erik arguing. Nothing.

A bit disturbed, she dressed quickly into a modest gown that hung in the wardrobe and took care of necessities, not paying much attention to her appearance. Had Nadir told Erik that she was staying, or did he leave that trying task to herself?

Barefoot, Christine slipped out of the room, wild curls falling messily off of one shoulder. She padded to her old room, where Erik was staying, and put her head near the door to listen. The steady sound of breathing reassured her, and she shifted her feet on the cold stone floor. Tentatively, she opened the door, finding the daroga in a chair near the bed, fast asleep.

The bed where Erik had slept, however, was empty. The bedspread was neatly folded and showed no sign that the masked man had been there. Frightened, Christine gently shook Nadir awake, and he stirred sleepily.

"What is it?" The Persian opened his eyes to find the girl staring fearfully at him, and he rubbed out the rest of his sleepiness. Christine wordlessly pointed to the vacated bed, and Nadir swore in Persian.

"Where could he have gone?" she whispered, afraid that he had left. No matter how much she would like to be with another, she would never forgive herself if Erik died alone.

Nadir looked grim, then purposefully stood up. "Have you checked his room yet? He could be in there."

"No, I haven't." With that, she rushed out into the hallway and towards Erik's room. At his doorway, she paused at first, then gathered up her courage and opened the door.

Erik sitting silently at the organ in the dark, head in his hands, with that dratted cat twined around his ankles. The white mask lay discarded on the floor, and it almost seemed to glow in the darkness. Christine took a step back, afraid of disturbing him, since he was obviously in a black mood. She must have made some small noise, however, because his head snapped up in instinct, mismatched eyes staring out from the deep hollows of his face.

It took a moment for him to realize who was standing there, while shock and disbelief ran across his twisted features. His gaze hardened, and his hand started clutching at the black robe draped over his lean figure.

"You foolish girl, why are you still here?" His voice was so cold that Christine feared one of his rages would be not long.

In two strides, Erik reached his mask and quickly placed it over his horrible face, coughing as he did so. Christine reached forward to try to help him, as he doubled over in pain. "Erik, let me…"

"No. Don't come any closer." He straightened up again, breathing heavily, eyes glinting. "Do you think I can't take care of myself? How touching, to be sure. I don't want you here. Erik is getting quite sick of your pity and charity, dear Christine."

The Phantom broke off, panting, as Christine cowered under his piercing gaze and harsh words. He took a step closer, his voice growing deceptively soft.

"Where is your lover, my dear? Rejected you, has he? Or perhaps he's waiting for the opportunity to finish me off, to be rid of me earlier than expected. Well, let him come! I won't be much of a challenge, right now. I insist!" He looked every inch a vengeful demon, and Christine collapsed on the floor, her resolve quickly diminishing.

"Erik, stop. How could you say that? I'm staying here, with you! You don't mean this, I know you don't…"

He continued with his ranting, ignoring the terrified girl at his feet. "He's dying, you say to yourself. He couldn't possibly do anything horrible. Why not wait until now to stay, to offer the monster a taste of what could have been….Christine! I tell you, leave now, before…"

She realized he was beyond being comforted at the moment. Oh, why hadn't she gone with safe, predictable Raoul…?

Nadir suddenly appeared in the doorway, looking hardly surprised at Erik's anger, but fearful.

"Erik! What are you doing?"

Erik switched his attention to the Persian, tearing his gaze away from Christine. "It would be in your best interest to not interfere, daroga. I'm sure you remember the last time you attempted to stop me…It didn't turn out very well, did it?"

Nadir faltered, but took a step forward. "Erik, be reasonable. The girl is here. She sent her man away, to stay down here with you. Can't you see that?"

Erik waved Nadir's accusations away with one hand. "I see nothing. I told her to go. The only thing that's keeping her here is her own damned conscience, which is sadly misleading. I can't allow her to stay. She doesn't _want _to stay. Can't you see that?"

Christine slowly stood up, wishing she could somehow cover her ears and shut her eyes tight, and pretend all the bad things went poof, like they did when she was younger. No one could find her in the dark, after all. But she wasn't a child anymore. There wasn't any quick solution, no Raoul to go fetch her scarf out of the sea. She was on her own now.

Christine was much smaller than both men, but she got between them, and they both fell silent. She stood on tiptoes, and put her hands on Erik's chest, to steady herself. She heard his harsh breathing, and her own heartbeat.

She only had herself. She could try to give the dying ghost some semblance of peace. No matter how angry he got, she would not flinch…

"Erik, listen to me. I will stay." Christine took a deep breath. "I want to stay. Do whatever you like to me, but I will not leave."

There. She said it. No matter that he was a different man right now. This man was unpredictable, fast and cunning even in pain. Erik, she knew, would never intentionally harm her, and yet... she had only seen his dangerous side a couple of times. Somehow, she had to find the courage to face the consequences of her decision…

Erik stared at her, still tense. He reached up to his face and took the mask off himself, then searched her face for signs of disgust. She remained perfectly calm, keeping a neutral expression.

He spoke haltingly, voice rough. "You would stay? You would willingly stay here, with the very man you despise? And you won't leave?"

"I promise I won't leave. Erik…" She chose her words carefully, knowing a little thing could set him off again.

Now he was like a child after a tantrum, demanding, repeating. "I do so hate broken promises, Christine." Erik suddenly clutched her closer, not being able to stop himself. What a cruel joke this was! He suddenly needed to be alone…he needed to think. How could he chain her down here until his death? With no one except him for company?

Now Christine watched Erik's face closely, sensing the inner turmoil he was going through. If only she could stop comparing Raoul's handsome features with the utter mockery of a face Erik was cursed with. She could hear Nadir shifting behind her; it seemed the poor man was always left in these uncomfortable positions.

"Erik. If you have quite calmed down by now, I think I will go make us some tea." The daroga eyed Erik as his breathing calmed, though he was still on edge, wound up like some fierce jungle predator. Christine was still frightened…the Erik she knew hadn't come back yet. The kind, gentle demeanor he had, that she had grown to trust and perhaps…even…No. Not right now.

Erik had released his tight grip on her, and now stood a couple paces away, still staring at her. Nadir had gone out and told them to come have some tea before it got cold. Christine cleared her throat uncomfortably, unconsciously winding a lock of hair around her finger.

"I won't break my promise, Erik." She was whispering now. "Just trust me."

"Trust you, Christine? I trusted you once." He came forward again, unable to stay away.

"I came back, didn't I? I came back, and now…and now you don't want me." She swallowed back sudden tears, remembering the last time he had said that to her.

The Phantom's voice suddenly grew possessive, a low hiss. "Don't say that." He calmed himself again, breathing deeply. "I want you to be happy. You can't be happy down here, and….I can't...

"You can't what?" Christine looked up at his face, the face that had caused so many to turn from him forever…

As an answer, he pressed his lips to hers with frightening intensity, in a fine line between passion and hate. Unlike any kiss she had ever gotten from Raoul, it took her breath away, and she stood stunned, too bewildered to respond.

Erik pulled away with a snarl, turning his back to her, and clenched his long fingers into a fist. Christine slowly brought her fingers up to her lips, recalling the onslaught of emotions he had managed to put into that one kiss…

Misreading her silence for revulsion, he crossed his arms tightly across his chest, causing another round of coughing. Unable to hold himself up, Erik sat down at the bench, refusing to look at her.

"_Leave me be."_

His rough voice startled Christine out of her daze, and she approached him, a bit fearfully. "Erik, tell me what's wrong, please. I said I would stay. You can't just-"

"You want to know what's wrong, my dear?" The Opera Ghost turned around to look at her, his horrifying visage twisted with self-loathing and despair. He gave a reckless laugh which turned into a loud rasping wheeze, and Christine cringed at the sound. Was it truly only yesterday that he had been calling out for someone to love him? How quickly he became the horrifying Phantom of the Opera, whose every whim was obeyed!

Erik continued, though in a softer voice. "Always so curious, aren't you? Curiosity killed the cat you know, Christine. But I will tell you what is wrong. And you will run, and you will forget your promise. So you see, I don't put much stock into promises at my age. But you must know everything! So I will tell you."

He paused, and took a quavering breath. "You never answered my question."

"I don't understand…"

Turning, he took a small box out of the drawer, and wordlessly extended his hand to her.

A gold band, set with a small crystal, rested in the black velvet. Christine gasped, and then slowly raised her brimming eyes to his face. His eyes were centered on the ring, as if he was not quite sure of what he had just done. Sensing her gaze, he gave a sardonic smile, hiding his hurt behind a mask of feigned mocking.

"Scared, Christine? I daresay this is the opportune moment to start running. You still have his ring, do you not? Waiting for me to die, I suppose. You weren't expecting this, were you?"

Numbly, Christine picked up the ring from his hand, and laid it on her palm. It was so different from Raoul's ring…this was simple, yet elegant. Raoul had bought her the biggest ruby ring, surrounded by diamonds. Well-meant, but it didn't suither as well as Erik's tasteful ring. But how could she choose? And how could she break a dying man's heart? Her tears overflowed, about the third time in two days. Crying for Erik, for her childhood friend…

"Is it that bad, to be tied to me for a while? I assure you, it wouldn't be for too long…and you said you would stay…"

The dream came back to haunt her, and she found herself repeating the words over and over in her head.

_Jump…_

Christine smiled through her tears, and slowly slid the ring onto her finger. The least she could do for her fallen angel would be to make him happy, help him find some joy in the world, in his final days. Never mind about herself…if she refused him, then she would truly be haunted.

"Yes, Erik. I will."

Erik froze, then lifted his shaking hand to touch the golden ring around her small finger. "What did you say?"

"I said yes. I will marry you." She couldn't manage to keep the small shiver out of her voice at those words…but she couldn't let Erik see! He needed her, right now.

So tuned in was he to her emotions, that he caught it right away. "You are frightened. Christine…I promise you…" The Phantom faltered, and closed his eyes. "I am a fool. Here, give that to me. We won't speak of it again."

Christine snatched her hand away, keeping the ring from his grasp. "Erik, no. It's fine, really. I've just…"

Nadir's voice from the main room abruptly cut into their conversation. "Erik! Mademoiselle Daaé! Am I expected to sit and talk to myself?"

Erik raised one shoulder in helplessness. "Damned Persian…"

Christine smiled, despite all her efforts. Erik saw the small quirk of her lips, and his eyes glowed in happiness. Surely that was reward enough for promising to stay down here.

He stood with a small effort, and put his mask back on gracefully. She laid her hand on his proffered arm, and she felt a small shiver go through him. She glanced at him and frowned; she could no longer tell what he was thinking. The white mask blocked all his emotions from view.

"Shall I take the ring back?" Despite the forced casualness of his query, Christine could tell his anxiety.

"No, Erik."

And so they continued on to an extremely agitated Nadir.

* * *

Finally finished this chapter...Wasn't the best, sorry. So beat me. -ducks many flying objects aimed at my head- HEY! That was hypothetical! Erik, tell them to stop! 

Kay Erik: By all means, please continue.

-sigh- Muses...


	5. Learn to Forgive

A/N- Oh, goodness. Well, contrary to popular belief, I'm not dead. Don't hurt me. AHHH! -dodges heavy things aimed at my head- I've been meaning to get a chapter up, but I didn't have any time. Really, no time. And I've been plagued with many little scenes of my story, but I don't know how exactly to connect them. You can blame that on the muse.

-jerks finger at Kay Erik, who is whistling innocently- So here go my feeble attempts. Oh, and another thing. Since we can't put review replies on the stories, I'll just email answers to some of the people who had questions. And don't worry, this story does have a plot, it'll just take a little time to get there.

And another thing. I've decided that Erik is going to have golden eyes. Like in Leroux.

Disclaimer: ….Do we really need these things?

**Ch 5: Learn to Forgive**

Nadir eyed them both, and fell back in his chair with a worried expression. "So, Erik. I do hope you haven't made any rash decisions?"

The Phantom ignored the question, and picked up the teacup with nimble fingers. "The tea is cold, Daroga." The slight ironic quirk in his voice made Christine smile again, although the seriousness of the situation was very real.

"That is through no fault of mine. If you hadn't taken so long to stop being such a stubborn…" The Persian trailed off, looking furious. Christine could sense the slight smile behind the mask.

"I hate it when you do that. Now, will you please tell me what you have done this time?"

Erik sat down gracefully, while she sat down in the chair next to him. Christine was still wondering over the implications of what she had just agreed to. While it was not, and would never be in her power to break his heart again, she still wasn't that strong. She didn't know whether she could watch him die, the man whom she had once thought invincible.

But she had promised, and she couldn't go back. She stared at the little diamond inset within the gold, underneath the table. She remembered that day, which seemed so long ago…

"_So it was for you, the wedding dress and the ring. Mademoiselle, I can't tell you how happy I am to make the acquaintance of such a very great lady…I think he would cut out his heart to please you."_

That simple, well-meaning man had turned her world upside down that day.

"Christine is to be _my wife_, Nadir. I don't want to hear about your moral obligations. She accepted it; I didn't force anything upon her. She insisted."

The restrained anger in Erik's voice brought Christine back to the present, and she soon saw the situation. The two men were glaring at each other; Erik was winning. She laid her hand gently on his forearm resting on the table, and he glanced at her concernedly.

"Christine is tired, Daroga. I do not wish to continue this pointless conversation with you." He stifled a cough, and Christine worried. The man seemed to still believe he was a ghost.

"I'm fine, Erik. Monsieur Khan, I assure you, Erik didn't make me do anything. He asked me, and I said yes."

Not exactly the true story, but she didn't want to worry about the future right now. She would put it away, until the time came to talk about it again.

Nadir gave her a surprised glance, and Erik coughed. A pale pink color colored her cheeks as she realized what she had just said. "Pardon my rudeness, Monsieur, but that is the truth. And I want to get Erik back into bed."

She intercepted the sharp looked Erik sent her, although she was weakening. Too much, too soon…She couldn't do this by herself. Now two lives were on her conscience. How long could she carry this burden, without breaking down?

Christine was whispering now. "Please."

Nadir sighed deeply. "I suppose there is no way I can change your mind. A good waste of tea, this was…"

Their voices swirled all around her, meaningless phrases floating through her head… _No,_ she thought dimly, _I can't faint now._ She wasn't strong to begin with, but she managed to stand up wearily, banishing the bright stars flashing in front of her eyes.

Erik was right behind her, and she leaned back, almost unconsciously, to balance herself. Sensing her weakness, he picked her up in one swift motion, forgetting his own limitations at the moment. With a strength that looked positively inhuman in his thin, tortured frame, he carried the girl to her old room, with Nadir following behind.

* * *

Christine's eyes fluttered open. _Where am I now?_

She groggily switched her position, aware of the gown twisted around her legs._ Nadir was fighting Erik…because of the ring. Where is Erik? How did I get into my room?_

She opened her eyes again, and stared at closed eyes behind a white mask, propped up by a hand. His elbow rested on the soft bed, while his other hand rested near her head, as if he was about to touch her.

She carefully raised herself into a sitting position, observing more closely the child-like position of his sleep. He was so vulnerable like this…so human. So different from what she knew of him.

_Would he awake if I touched him…?_

She inched her small hand, the one with the ring, closer to his sleeping figure. Before she got near his face, the deep-set eyes flew open. Neither of them moved for a moment, afraid to break the silence.

"Were you going to take off my mask, Christine?" Erik's sorrowful voice made her flinch back, breathing hard. He didn't trust her. He would never be able to trust her again.

"I wanted to…" She trailed off, not wanting to sound childish.

"You don't have to do this, you know." The Opera Ghost reached out towards her, and then dropped his hand.

She shivered as a sudden chill swept through her body, and brought her legs up to her chest in a very un-ladylike fashion. "Do what?"

"Marry me. It was enough, to just stay here. Nadir was right."

Christine was suddenly alarmed at the tone of his voice, and reached forward to gently place a hand on his arm. "Erik, no." She tugged gently on his sleeve, and patted the space next to her on the bed. "Come here, please."

He shook his head stubbornly, turned away. "It wouldn't be right." How trusting she was! Perhaps too much so…A monster didn't deserve to be trusted.

She sighed. "I want you to lie down. You'll kill yourself if you go on like this. I'll get up, if you prefer."

He quickly got to his feet. "No." Christine moved over, and Erik awkwardly sat down on the edge of the bed. His hand danced automatically over the coverlet, tapping out melodies only he could hear.

"Did you do that as a child?" She gestured at his fingers, which abruptly lay still. Christine knew she was in dangerous territory – but she suddenly needed to know more. She wanted to understand the dark past he had confided in her.

"I believe I did. My mother would slap me for it…she had no patience for that sort of thing. Only Sasha didn't care." His eyes grew remote as the memory came back, and he drew back from the girl, almost unconsciously.

"Sasha?"

"She was my dog. The day she died was the day I ran away from home." His voice sounded flat, all feeling erased from his forbidding profile.

Christine couldn't stop. "How did she die?"

He snapped out of his reverie, and his lethargy was replaced with anger. "She was killed by a mob. They killed her because she was _mine._ They would have killed me, if they had gotten the chance. Are you satisfied now?"

The room was silent; Erik's haggard breathing alerting her to the possibility of another fit. She hurried to try to calm him down, inching closer to his tense figure.

"I'm sorry. I just want to understand…"

The Phantom gave a harsh laugh. "You don't, Christine. You don't want to understand."

Timid now, she lifted the hand that was lying motionless beside him, and started examining his deceptively fragile wrist, long fingers. "You don't mind, do you?"

Erik shook his head slowly, staring at her small fingers probing his hand. There were small scars crisscrossed all over the painfully thin wrist, and Christine frowned.

"Where did you get all these scars?"

"I broke a mirror when I was younger." His answer was short and abrupt, so she didn't want to ask more about it. She traced the lines of his palm, and then he jerked his hand away. Growing bolder with her small successes, she reached over again and entwined his long fingers with her own.

She could sense him tense up, and she glanced up at his face. He stared straight ahead, purposefully ignoring her. Giving her a chance to take her hand back, to exclaim at the bone-chilling cold of his hands. To remember what he was, and what he had done. Christine didn't care right now. She squeezed his hand gently, and broke the silence.

"Erik…When will we be married?"

His angelic voice was soft, tired. "This marriage is on your terms, my dear. Or have you forgotten?" Why was she doing this? Did her actions stem from the pity she felt for a dying man, or was it…something else? No, Erik decided, it was not something else; it couldn't be. But for now, the soft pressure of her fingers, the trusting tone of her words, the closeness of her body…That was more than he could have ever hoped for.

"I haven't forgotten. But I was just wondering…What is your last name? Since it is customary for women to take their husband's name…" She looked down, suprised at her own courage.

Erik shook his head thoughtfully. "I am aware of that. Unfortunately, I don't seem to recall it…I'm sure my mother never wished for me to share her name. I suppose I'll have to ask Jules to go searching…In Rouen, perhaps." His eyes grew dark at some memory that Christine couldn't fathom.

"What's wrong?" She looked at Erik, vaguely worried. Her anxiety turned to frustration as the mask effectively hid all of his emotions from view. "Erik, will you please let me take the mask off?"

"No." His voice was distant, and had a note of finality in it. But Christine wasn't going to back down; he _had_ to let himself relax.

"Yes. I told you, it doesn't matter. How can I be a good wife if I cannot even see your face? I know what is there; you don't have to hide from me." She untangled her fingers and reached up to take it, but his hand caught her own in a strong yet gentle grip, effectively arresting her progress.

"I will take the mask off." He lowered her hand down, and took it off with his other hand. She stared at him as his brow rose in a question.

"Well? Is your insatiable curiosity satisfied?"

Her insistence to see his face alarmed him. He wanted her to _forget _about the face, at least for now. Even _he_ despised his own face …why would she want to see it? Unless she was mocking him…But she was staying. She was staying, and now she was stuck, for Christine would not go back on her word.

She smiled, and reached up to touch his marred features. "Yes. Now I can see you." She meant that in more ways than one; he seemed much more human without the forbidding white mask, which made him into something unearthly…like an angel. A dark angel.

He sighed as her fingers touched his face. She remembered with sudden clarity that she was the only one to ever touch his face with kindness. She had to remember that, in the days to come, or else she would start thinking about Raoul. Raoul…

Her distress must have shown on her face for a second, for Erik asked coldly, "You're thinking about that boy, aren't you? You wish you weren't here. It's too late, Christine."

She turned away from his harsh words, and got up from the bed. She walked to the doorway carefully, not wanting to faint again. He glided over to her with a faint cough, and silently stood behind her. She turned around with an exasperated look, but dropped it as he began to run his finger down her jaw line, a remorseful look in his golden eyes.

"Forgive me. I deserve nothing; therefore I should be pleased with whatever you choose to give."

Christine threw her arms around him, burying her head in his shoulder. The Phantom looked surprised, then tenderly drew his arms across her back. Her voice came out muffled but clear, "You deserve everything, angel. I am the problem. You could have chosen so much better..."

He drew back and lifted her chin up. "No. You are perfect." With that, he exited the room, Christine hurrying after him.

"Where did Monsieur Khan go, Erik?" She reached his side once more as they entered the little living room where they had spent so many hours together.

"He had to go out. I expect he will be coming back shortly." He sat in a chair, and she stood next to him. "In fact, he should be arriving now."

A few minutes later, Nadir rushed in, looking decidedly frazzled. He had a letter half crumpled in his hands, his face almost comical in his alarm. Christine moved forward, wanting to help, but Erik kept her back. "My dear fool, what are you doing to that letter?"

Nadir noticed what he was doing and stopped twisting the paper, then stared at the Opera Ghost, wincing a little at his unmasked face.

"Erik…someone is looking for you."

* * *

Dundundun...Yay, a cliffie! 


End file.
